Wounded Spirit
by Thatkliqkid
Summary: ONESHOT. Triple H keeps vigil at Shawn Michaels bedside. Implies SLASH. Rated T for language.


The leaves were turning gold at the fringes, the lush green weaning and dying as summer blended into autumn.

The cold summer sun had faded slightly, grey clouds now dotted the once crystal blue sky as shadows weaved their way through the window.

Hunter sat stiffly, his hair unbrushed, his clothes creased. He hadn't showered in days.

When you were keeping vigil, hygiene tended to take a backseat.

The mass of machinery emitted a low beep and Hunter startled, his whiskey coloured orbs stained with concern.

The nurse glanced over sympathetically.

"It's alright, it's meant to do that"

"Oh." Hunter whispered his voice cracked and dry from lack of use.

The tense silence resumed, trapping Hunter with his own thoughts.

"You can talk to him you know, he can still hear you"

Hunter ran his tongue over chafed lips nervously as he cast his gaze across the room. The bed loomed large and omnipotent in the wake of the small hospital room yet still it was overpowered by the overbearing machines.

The machines bleeped and buzzed in the taut silence keeping Shawn planted firmly on the brink of life over death.

Even with the machines the jury was still out on Shawn's sentence.

The nurse quietly slipped out, allowing Hunter the privacy he so sorely needed.

He pulled the chair he'd been sat on closer to the bed, cringed as it shrieked against the tiled floor.

"Sorry" he said breathlessly, "Didn't mean to do that"

The hospital clock ticked in reply, the only sound to be heard over the incessant whir of the machinery.

Hunter sighed with frustration as he resumed his seat.

He glanced down into the comatose features of one of his best friends, the man who he'd watched flounder and flourish over their thirteen year friendship. The man who had gone from the most intolerable, inconsiderate youth to the pious person before him sleeping silently as he had for the past two weeks.

"The nurse, she says you can hear me" said Hunter softly; He faltered awaiting some form of acknowledgement.

None came.

"You always were stubborn" continued Hunter, "If someone said black you'd insist it was white come hell or high water. I mean how many times did Kev say ' don't take those high risk bumps' how many times did we all say it? But no, you insisted it was ok, you insisted you could handle it. You fucking would"

The bitterness seeped through, his voice low with condemnation.

"You shouldn't have agreed to let Dave spear you off the stage. Why did you do that? Are you that big of a fucking mark? Even now? You're not HBK; you're just plain old Shawn. You idiot!"

The anger reverberated around the small room but still Shawn remained silent, his sleeping form offered no rebuttal.

"Do you know what you've done to yourself? DO YOU?!"

Hunter raised his voice in fury, felt his blood bubble and boil with rage as if Shawn had offered some smart aleck remark.

God how he longed for one.

And as the realisation dawned on him that Shawn wasn't going to fire some sarcastic quip, the rage quickly crushed to heartbreak.

"Do you know you might not wake up? That's what they keep saying" whimpered Hunter quietly his throat tight, "Never wake, never walk, and never see your wife and children again. Never"

He chewed at his lip; the tiny spots of blood fell sour against his tongue as grief wrenched through him like a thunderstorm of hurt and betrayal.

"You promised you were going to be careful" seethed Hunter, "You swore! You looked your wife in the eyes and vowed you were going to be more cautious after the last knee op, you promised everyone! You fucking liar!"

The machine bleeped mockingly at his harsh tone, his voice shattered like broken glass as he recounted the injury to Shawn.

"You landed wrong, everyone could tell, they – the cameras - zoomed in on you – so lifeless, so, so pale and b-broken. You weren't moving. You couldn't-"

Hunter paused, desperately tried to push his words over the hard lump he felt building in his throat.

" You couldn't move" he continued his voice barely above a whisper, " You hit your spine on one of the steps, cracked a disc, such a stupid little thing - If you'd been one inch to the right you'd have missed it completely. Why didn't you tell them no? Why didn't you say NO? You'd said it plenty of times before!"

His voice cracked as the tear slipped down the bridge of his nose. Shawn's biggest flaw at one point had been disagreeability, when his life changed his fault became appeasement, he would do anything to please his co-workers regardless of personal risk to his safety.

He wanted nothing more than to please those around him, to show the world that Shawn Michaels wasn't the selfish bastard he had been prior to 2002.

Now Shawn was suffering as a result of the selfishness of those around him.

Vince had pushed and pushed for the stupid spot, had niggled and chipped away at Shawn until he had agreed to put his body on the line for the sake of sports entertainment.

Hunter and the rest of the world had watched as he crashed and burned live on Monday Night Raw.

Only the rest of the world had been able to shut off their TV sets and resume living, Hunter's world had imploded as he cruised on autopilot, desperately seeking solace at his friend's bedside during this new and miserable existence.

He hadn't left his side, refused even when Rebecca and the children stood despondently around the bed like mourners at a grave.

No one loved Shawn as much as he did; no one had seen the bad side of Shawn more than he. It was Hunter who had helped Shawn struggle through the darkest of times. It was he, who had prised the pills from his hand late at night and talked him down from the sinister high, had dragged him down from the allure of suicide during the troubled years.

It was Hunter who had watched with pride as Shawn recounted his finding of Christ, had felt an overwhelming sense of comfort when Shawn discovered he could return to the work he loved best, that life didn't have to be so depressed – that Shawn Michaels was allowed to gain solace and find peace.

Shawn's heart belonged to Rebecca but Hunter's had always been Shawn's. Ever since that fateful meeting in 1995 he had felt nothing but adoration for the elder man.

He'd had thirteen years to tell him so, equal to roughly four thousand seven hundred and forty eight days to tell this wonderful man what he meant to the world, meant to Hunter, yet he never uttered a word.

He just let life pass them by under the illusion of invincibility. He had ignorantly assumed that Shawn would always be with him.

Now it was too late, now Shawn was slipping away; yearned by the Heavens regardless of the longing from earth for his soul to remain rooted with them.

Hunter wasn't a praying man but he silently urged the Lord to grant him this one and only plea. Shawn's health and life were not too much to ask for, surely God needed all the Christian Soldiers he could get and no one was more loyal a warrior than Shawn.

Surely God could spare him for the sake of deep rooted love.

Hunter felt the tears intensify as he contemplated the loneliness that would ensue should Shawn be taken from him.

Inconsiderately, his thoughts did not stray much to Rebecca and the children, he could think only of his own hurt, his own loss should Shawn not open his eyes.

He gently took Shawn's limp hand in his own, lowered his head so that his lips brushed the unconscious Texan's earlobe.

"You can't go, you can't. Too many people need you Shawn. Far too many people. You can't just let them all down, you can't just die –"

He choked, fought desperately through the sobs.

"You can't leave Rebecca, and your children. What about them? What about Kev, Kid – Scotty? You're needed Shawn, you stupid bastard you're needed! I need you"

The hushed cry echoed around him as the beads of sorrow continued to break leaving dirty smudges against his cheek, unchecked the tears trickled slowly onto Shawn's static torso.

"Shawn I don't want you to go, you can't go yet" wept Hunter, the anguish poured from him smothering the pair in heartache, "Please just wake up"

His pleading went unrequited, the machines continued to bleep, their pace reaching a frantic crescendo.

Silently he cast one more prayer to the wind knowing that in times of desperation it would be Shawn's choice of survival.

"No Shawn don't –"begged Hunter, "Please I love you"

The bleeps merged into one siren of defeat, the machinery buzzed and crackled around him and he swore he could feel his heart tear in two.

His hand felt cold and numb, searing pain shot through his fingers. He emitted a low murmur of sorrow and closed his eyes to the insensible body before him, not wanting to remember him this way.

" I love you" he repeated softly, the words echoed from his lips softly as if the fragile mutterings could seep life into his friend's failing figure.

"That's great but my gate doesn't swing that way. I only posed in Playgirl by mistake"

Hunter jumped as the low rasp cut through the silence. He glanced down to see blue eyes wide and imploring, dampened but sparkling with life nonetheless.

Shawn's hand was entwined in his squeezing it for all its worth.


End file.
